Knee deep in snow days

Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.
I use this line ALL the time. I learned it. I live it. Yet, when it would most BEHOOVE me to actually TAKE MY OWN ADVICE, I don’t.
Honestly, how am I to have any lasting impact on the children if I can’t even get my lectures through my OWN thick skull? The problem is snow days.
I love them.
I adore them.
I embrace them.
I am hanging my head in shame as I admit that I wished for one – emphasis, I might add, on “one.”
Love. I am the mother your friends warn you about. I natter on, ad nauseum, about cuddling and drawing and playing games and baking cookies.
Sometimes, sledding is involved – OUTSIDE even!
Seriously, I love snow days as only a work-at-home mom who doesn’t technically have to leave the house until spring could love snow days. I understand that others don’t get quite as excited.
Nonetheless, a mother’s love can only go so far. Imagine my surprise to find that even I, the exalted lover of the snow day, have hit the wall.
The first snow day is a wonderful treat. The second, a reprieve from having to return quite so soon to the hustle and bustle of the everyday.
The third through the fifth are, quite frankly, a blur.
The sixth snow day is the day that separates the snowmen from the boys – or crazy mommies.
This is the day that any sane human being grows to hate the National Weather Service.
The dreaded words creep across the bottom of the TV screen, striking terror in the heart of every parent: “Your local schools